I had always had a very definite opinion on whether two members of the opposite sex can really just be friends without one or the other developing some sort of romantic feeling. In short, I never thought this was possible, until I recently started hanging out more with an old colleague.
I forgot how much fun it was to have that much banter without the usual side of bitching, obsessing about weight, dissecting celebrities, and analyzing relationships. Men are generally far more chilled out, and it has been rubbing off on me.
A few nights ago, we went to a pub in a part of London that I had never been to before. Balham. That's where he lives, and obviously I would go there for no other reason. We settled down with our drinks on a comfy faux Chesterfield, and began talking about relationships and dating. It became very apparent very quickly that (most) men are really very simple and do not read the subtle signals that women send out.
For example, he has recently started dating a pretty Indian girl who was clearly very scarred by a previous relationship in which her ex cheated on her. Understandably she has said that she wants to take it slow, so much so that she has labelled their dates as 'non-dates'.
He started to think that she wasn't interested in him at all, and when a pretty girl struck up a conversation in a bar a few nights later, there was no hesitation on his part to indulge in a bit of a flirt.
The pretty Indian 'non-girlfriend' clearly became enraged with jealousy and started spouting over obscenities to the poor girl. In the end he had to apologise for her embarrassing behaviour, and rather surprisingly this did not put him off her!
They are now practically on the verge of 'making it official' and he regularly comes to me for tips and advice on how to make her happy, and what he should do in the event that he needs to make it up to her.
What continues to baffle me, is that after all this time men and women still struggle to understand each other. It seems as though men clearly fail to spot the signals and obvious signs, but then women analyse things far too much. The answers are generally in front of our eyes, yet we seem to love complicating things and inventing reasons that simply aren't there.
Ladies, if you're wondering why he hasn't called you, he's probably not interested- no matter how amazing your date was. And guys, if she says she doesn't care, doesn't mind or that she's fine, she probably does care, seriously does mind, and most definitely is not fine.
After all, it's obvious isn't it?
West London Goes East
I decided to venture out to Hackney on a chilly Friday night to see my best friend and have a few drinks in a cute little pub overlooking London Fields. I arrived at her and her boyfriend's flat and we all set off on the short walk there.
Once there, a few of his friends joined us and after a short conversation I felt a possible teeny tiny glimmer of a spark with one of them. We were getting on well and he suddenly decided to buy a shot of tequila for us all. I suppose it was a good thing that I had the shot in my hand when his girlfriend walked in. She was lovely though, and it was clear that they were very much in love, so I started my usual scan of the room for hot guys.
We moved to an area downstairs where there was a birthday party taking place and joined the group. I began to notice that the room mainly consisted of couples and started planning my getaway. That was until I was thrust into a conversation with my friend and a French girl. Now; I am a very open person, and quite often find myself sharing personal details and life stories with strangers. However, if I am 10, she was a 100 on the scale of forward/ inappropriate conversation. Having just learnt her name, I also learnt that she had a nonexistent libido. She was in a relationship with her boyfriend of 7 years who she clearly loved and respected very much, but had no desire to sleep with him. My friend and I tried to offer advice by comparing previous relationships, but once she told us that no man had given her the big O, we started scraping the barrel.
From there, the conversation moved into a slightly sinister area, whereby she told us that she had developed an obsession for one of her boyfriend's friends. She was so overcome by her desire for him, that in order to get over it, she told everyone about it, so that she could KEEL IT, KEEL IT! (This was repeated many times). Guess what kids, the man in question was there too. I had briefly attempted a conversation with him earlier on in the night which soon fizzled out due to the copious amount of mdma he'd taken (this became apparent when he declared in front of a small group just how fucked he was and that he adored Mandy. I assure you, his girlfriend had a different name).
Shortly after, we all left and I found myself analyzing the night and my life on the taxi ride home. I remembered stating in my first post of 2012 that I would be going on a man detox for the duration of January (you can read about that here).
Well, now that the man detox has officially seeped into February, March and (so god help me if it lasts for the whole of..) April, I have actually started to focus on other things in my life, which I don't think I have ever done before. Of course there are times that I want to stroll down a sun kissed street hand in hand with someone, get dolled up for a nice dinner or have the kind of banter that only occurs between two people who have been dating for a few months, but life is generally pretty good otherwise.
I suppose I have a lot to be grateful for, and after all, good things come to those who wait.
Well, now that the man detox has officially seeped into February, March and (so god help me if it lasts for the whole of..) April, I have actually started to focus on other things in my life, which I don't think I have ever done before. Of course there are times that I want to stroll down a sun kissed street hand in hand with someone, get dolled up for a nice dinner or have the kind of banter that only occurs between two people who have been dating for a few months, but life is generally pretty good otherwise.
I suppose I have a lot to be grateful for, and after all, good things come to those who wait.
Way Back When
It was the end of April 2011 and I was dating a blonde haired, slightly strange looking man who I had met at a friends party. After having a drunken smooch he asked for my number. Ever the cynic, I doubted he'd get in touch , but lo and behold, having strictly followed the three day rule, I received a very well written text asking me out for a drink.
I was reluctant because I didn't find him conventionally attractive, but he seemed nice, and so I accepted. We went for a drink at a trendy bar that he chose and the date went well. So well, that we ended up dating for around 3 months until one night.
He offered to come over to my place and cook dinner for me, however the night before (a Thursday), I received a drunken phone call at 2am from him. He'd gone out to a strip club with work, was hammered into oblivion and asked if he could crash at mine. Although I was mad at the late night call (not so much at the fact he'd gone to a strip club...I'm not exactly prudish), the prospect of some good lovin' made me feel better. But no. Oh no. He arrived and promptly passed out on my bed fully clothed.
I contemplated dragging him out of my apartment by his ankles, but before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.
The next morning, as he left for work, he told me he'd see me that evening and off he went.
I had just finished cleaning my apartment and was wondering where he was when I received a text from him telling me that he "had thrown up 3 times today, and was feeling awful, so he'd call me tomorrow". I responded telling him that it would have been nice if he'd let me know earlier, considering it was 8.30pm, I was starving and it was now too late to make other plans. He simply responded with "soz".
Later that evening, I found out that he ended up going out with friends, and ended things (albeit, only in my head).
The following day, I hit Camden with a friend, and while feeling quite shitty, I tried not to let it bother me.
After a couple of hours shopping, we settled in at bar where I met the hottest man I would sleep with.
5 days later, I finally received a text from Mr 'Soz' asking when he would be cooking for me. I nipped that idea in the bud immediately, and suggested he took me out to dinner to make it up to me instead. I was already over it, but thought I may at least get a free meal, and intended to make it as expensive as possible.
We met at the restaurant where I ordered fillet steak and an expensive bottle of red. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. His eyes said it all.
And when the dinner was done, so was the fling. After all, I had already embarked on my passionate romance with the bartender...
I was reluctant because I didn't find him conventionally attractive, but he seemed nice, and so I accepted. We went for a drink at a trendy bar that he chose and the date went well. So well, that we ended up dating for around 3 months until one night.
He offered to come over to my place and cook dinner for me, however the night before (a Thursday), I received a drunken phone call at 2am from him. He'd gone out to a strip club with work, was hammered into oblivion and asked if he could crash at mine. Although I was mad at the late night call (not so much at the fact he'd gone to a strip club...I'm not exactly prudish), the prospect of some good lovin' made me feel better. But no. Oh no. He arrived and promptly passed out on my bed fully clothed.
I contemplated dragging him out of my apartment by his ankles, but before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.
The next morning, as he left for work, he told me he'd see me that evening and off he went.
I had just finished cleaning my apartment and was wondering where he was when I received a text from him telling me that he "had thrown up 3 times today, and was feeling awful, so he'd call me tomorrow". I responded telling him that it would have been nice if he'd let me know earlier, considering it was 8.30pm, I was starving and it was now too late to make other plans. He simply responded with "soz".
Later that evening, I found out that he ended up going out with friends, and ended things (albeit, only in my head).
The following day, I hit Camden with a friend, and while feeling quite shitty, I tried not to let it bother me.
After a couple of hours shopping, we settled in at bar where I met the hottest man I would sleep with.
5 days later, I finally received a text from Mr 'Soz' asking when he would be cooking for me. I nipped that idea in the bud immediately, and suggested he took me out to dinner to make it up to me instead. I was already over it, but thought I may at least get a free meal, and intended to make it as expensive as possible.
We met at the restaurant where I ordered fillet steak and an expensive bottle of red. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. His eyes said it all.
And when the dinner was done, so was the fling. After all, I had already embarked on my passionate romance with the bartender...
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